Tag Archives: child

I considered titling this post “why we can’t adopt a child”, but figured that would require too much explaining. Instead, some of you may remember that time my mother decided that a proper pet should serve as interior decoration (The Aesthetics of a Perfect Cat – choosing a pet)*. Well, this is a sort of continuation of that :D

It is true that, in many ways, my mother and I share the same taste (when it comes to Jude Law, for example, or the fact that chocolate cake is not adequate unless it is basically a brownie). However, some fundamental differences have cropped up. These differences include views on curfews, skirt lengths, bright purple nail-polish, tomatoes, or cats, as previously mentioned. But never did I expect for it to go so far as….

CHILDREN

it’s not what it sounds like

i swear, youre getting a totally wrong idea! #diggingmyowngrave

The thing is that my mom and I have had multiple conversations in the past like this:

Penny: That’s a cute one!

Mom: Nah…

Penny: It’s a baby, how can you be so mean?

Mom: It’s just ugly.

innocent child, blissfully unaware of the harsh critique it is receiving

Or this:

Mom: Ok, that one’s cute!

Penny: Hm….I suppose. It’s not quite my style.

Mom: What’s wrong with it?

Penny: It’s too pale. I like the chubby ones with sparkly eyes and everything. My mother did wish for me to specify that this is a sort of parody of reality, and that she does find all babies to be adorable (except for the screaming ones), especially the ones with sparkly eyes and everything. I guess I shouldn’t go around misrepresenting people like this.

ok, so this one might be suspecting something…

Fortunately, my mother and I probably won’t be adopting children together any time soon, so the problem remains irrelevant. Also, we’ve decided that my children will be the cutest anyway, so…I’m just going to be silent now…

For some reason, I have no problem standing up to adults, teachers, parents, other students, friends (and “standing up” is, in *some* cases a very kind way of putting it), and yet, somehow, I must be subconciously terrified of ten-year-olds.

On the tram on the way to school, there are two that always choose to sit RIGHT BY MY FRIENDS, leaving me the only wonderful option of finding a seat at the other end of the car.

They always get off at the next stop, so then I quietly rejoin the squad, meanwhile receiving judgemental looks from the people who saw my weakness.

So am I a coward? Or is it my good heart that doesn’t want to take away something from a child?